


Pages

by orphan_account



Category: Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: M/M, but they do, but they have a similar office situation to the OFFICE SITUATION they had before, gordon has also written economics books for the hell of it, how does this mess look in comparison to the other additions to this tag? terrible, i have no idea how this came to mind and what the hell is happening in this AU, idk why, is a uni prof au, like when u get a phd in history from edinburgh uni and then do money stuff, okay what this really is, they do something to do with his history and blah blah, this is very short because i havent the stamina to write more than 200 words i guess, tony just likes reading things gordon has written, tony reads things he doesnt understand, too many dashes because i wrote this on a whim at 1am and what the fuck is punctuation, treasury stuff, you know the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 07:25:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11709642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Tony reads things he doesn't understand, because he's a pining mess.(Uni Prof AU, but it isn't even very relevant to the piece.)





	Pages

He's obsessed. He strokes the pages of an old friend's book; pages and pages of things he doesn't understand, nor does he care if he ever does- economics was never a strong point of his. But he reads it cover to cover and hears his soft grumbling voice as his eyes caress each and every word, and he reads the book again and again and again, until he memories entire chapters, drunkenly quoting them back to the author during late nights at the office.

God, he loves those office nights, when they're curled on the tiny couch and it's impossible not to touch- and sometimes, just sometimes, he falls asleep on his shoulder and he'll watch him, serene, until the day breaks, bodies stir, and the illusion shatters.

He wants something, anything, _everything_ \- but he knows doesn't care for him, as he does. He wants mornings, nights, afternoons, evenings, whole bloody days in bed, lips meeting limbs and morning breath kisses- that he cant have, and he'll never try to get. So he's burying himself in pages and pages of _him_ , with strands of jargon woven in-between; strangling, suffocating, and soothing, all at once- and he loves it.


End file.
